


Bienvenue en Amérique

by pebbleys



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, all of them are native to north america which im excited about, also pretty lit miraculous characters, established adrinette, in which adrien has an aunt and everyone is surprised, when will the plot return from war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pebbleys/pseuds/pebbleys
Summary: Bienvenue en Amérique = Welcome To AmericaAdrien has an Aunt that nobody's ever heard of until now, including Adrien. Upon their visit to her in the States, the Meme Team (Alya, Adrien, Nino, And Marinette) discover that they might not be the only Miraculous Holders out there.





	1. Cherry Creek

**Author's Note:**

> I'm getting sick of looking at this, so just take it.  
> Chapter One is finally done! Special thanks to la-chatonne-douce on tumblr for beta-ing this for me! <3

When Marinette had discovered that Adrien was Chat Noir a little over a year ago, she thought that she finally knew everything there was to know about her partner. She knew that he loved the sense of freedom and power that being Chat Noir gave him, she knew that his mother had disappeared two years ago, she knew that his favorite pastry was strawberry danishes, and she knew that he despised camembert. She knew he didn't have any family on his mother's side, and she knew he had two prestigious uncles on his father’s.  
  
So imagine her surprise when he approached her one evening, after school but just before they left for the day, and asked her if she would do him a huge favor: come with him to visit his estranged Aunt Faustine in Colorado. An aunt Marinette had no prior knowledge of.  
  
She had politely stammered that she would have to discuss it with her parents and that a two-week trip wasn’t a commitment easily made, but that she would see what she could do. Adrien had agreed that that was the best he could hope for, and so they parted ways.  
  
“Sweetie, two weeks is a lot of time, especially on a visit with someone you hardly know.” Sabine sighed, looking at her husband for support.  
  
“Look, we can’t promise anything. When is this trip?”  
  
“In a month. Nino and Alya are already going, and we’re going to be with Adrien’s aunt the whole time.”  
  
“What about food?”  
  
“Mlle. Faustine owns a local restaurant and M. Agreste will take care of any other expenses.”  
  
Tom and Sabine looked at each other.  
  
“Honestly sweetie, this is just... a lot. We’ll think about it, okay?”  
  
“Okay, thanks mom.”  
  
  
  
Her parents did end up letting her go, with much fretting, reassured with the knowledge that this was the slowest time of the year for the bakery. Now to deal with her only other concern: Paris.  
  
It was surprisingly easy to persuade Chloe to keep an extra eye out; no real danger other than everyday petty crimes usually turned up-- not since Hawkmoth’s defeat. Nino still tightly held the belief that there were dangers other than Hawkmoth; he was right, of course, but usually there was nothing major enough to call for a red-clad superheroine with a magical yoyo.  
  
  
  
The kids were escorted to the airport by Nathalie, were met by parents with forgotten things-- “Thank God, I thought I was going to have to just live without my hairbrush for two weeks!” Alya sighed in relief, seeing what was clutched in her father’s hand--and teary goodbyes. Nathalie made sure everything was in order with the flight, attendants, and security, before leaving them to fend for themselves an hour before their flight left.  
  
Marinette took the opportunity to feed the kwamis, giving Tikki a cookie she had in her purse. Everyone was content and bubbling with excitement, babbling about everything they wanted to see and do on this trip. Adrien mostly stayed quiet, Marinette noticed, and made a mental note to ask him about it later.  
  
The thought quickly slipped away in the hustle and bustle of a busy airport, and soon Marinette was giggling along with her friends with all the exhilaration of a teenager about to embark on a trip across the globe with her best friends in the world. Because, you see, she was.  
  
  
  
“Whose idea was this?” Marinette mumbled, an hour into the trip. She had been somewhat dozing on Adrien’s shoulder, Alya having already threatened her for trying to sleep on her.  
  
Tikki, Trixx, Plagg, and Wayzz had been playing hide-and-seek on the plane aisle for some time, and their hiding places were getting dangerously close to other people.  
  
“Hey, Trixx,” Alya said suddenly. “That's not a good idea.”  
  
“Yeah,” Marinette added. “What if someone discovers you guys?”  
  
Plagg stuck his tongue out at her, but everyone else looked appropriately chastised, so Marinette returned to her warm boyfriend, praying she might actually get to sleep.  
  
She ended up sleeping through the inflight food service, but woke up to Adrien shifting in his seat, trying to dig something out of his carry-on bag.  
  
“mmm, no,” was the most coherent thing to come out of her mouth.  
  
“Shhh,” he ran his fingers through her hair. Marinette pouted until he sat comfortably again, holding up a throw blanket to her.  
  
“I love you so much.” She reached for the blanket, but stopped, curious, when Adrien leaned back.  
  
“This is for me; I don't know what you're doing. Go sleep on Alya.”  
  
Marinette scrunched up her face in an exaggerated frown, grabbing her chest in mock offense.  
  
“You wound me, chatón.”  
  
“I’m insulted, my lady. That wasn’t even a good impression.”  
  
“It wasn't supposed to be.”  
  
Adrien opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Alya chucking her book at him.  
  
“You two are gross, and frankly, I’m offended. Cut it out.”  
  
Marinette glared at Alya before again returning to Adrien’s very cuddleable side. Adrien spread the blanket over them both and fell asleep to Marinette’s steady, soft breathing that instilled in him a sense of safety.  
  
  
  
The plane touched down at the Denver International Airport, or DIA, some 13 hours later. Adrien pointed out his aunt in the pick-up after they took another hour in security. Nobody’s bags had been stolen, everyone had a mini panic attack when they had to send their miraculous through the metal detector, and everyone was eager to be out of the airport as fast as superhumanly possible.  
  
Aunt Faustine drove a beat-up Chevette with chipped paint and a missing bumper. A peeling “I Love My Rat Terrier” sticker was stuck to her back windshield, and a pair of green fuzzy dice hung from the mirror.  
  
The woman behind the wheel, Aunt Faustine herself, had the Agreste nose, but the similarities ended there. She had brunette hair tied up in a messy bun, warm hazel eyes, and a splash of freckles across her nose. Streaks of grey were visible, not prominent, and she had laugh lines that hinted at a sense of humor. All in all, she seemed like an old soul with a friendly personality.  
  
Aunt Faustine had a loud but not overbearing voice. It was pleasant after the quiet of the plane ride, especially considering Marinette had slept through at least half of it.  
  
“I’m Faustine,” she said while packing their bags into her trunk (which she had insisted upon doing). “I assume you four are the rambunctious teenagers I’m charged with for two weeks?”  
  
“Yeah, that's us,” Marinette replied, watching Adrien climb into the shotgun seat. Alya had the window, again, Marinette was in the middle, and Nino had the other window.  
  
“All right, is that it?”  
  
“Yes, Mlle. Faustine.”  
  
“Okay. Let’s get back to my place, then. You all can meet Scooter and Bumper, we’ll have dinner, and then everyone to bed. I have a guest room and a queen-sized pullout couc- HEY!” Aunt Faustine slammed on her brakes and laid on the horn for about five seconds in response to a car cutting her off in the parking lot.  
  
“Geez, he was going like eighty in the parking lot!” Adrien sounded like he had been startled awake.  
  
“What? No, couldn't have been more than fifty.” Aunt Faustine recovered her composure and continued, escaping the packed parking lot and making her way through an unfamiliar town through back roads and minimal traffic.  
  
“Are you sure? That was pretty much main road speeds.”  
  
“Main road… Oh. I forgot French use kilometers.”  
  
“Oh.” Adrien fiddled with the air conditioning.  
  
“Oh yeah, Americans use miles,” Alya piped up. She was on her phone, probably checking the Ladyblog or Tumblr or whatever she did these days.  
  
“Ha. I guess we were both right… Adrien?”  
  
“Oh, yeah. I’m Adrien. This is Alya, Marinette, and Nino.”  
  
“I can't wait to get to know you over your trip. You can all call me Aunt Faustine; I insist.”  
  
“Thanks, Aunt Faustine.”  
  
“So, how about an icebreaker game? They're cheesy, I know, but we have 45 minutes left to go still.”  
  
“That sounds like a great idea Ml-- Aunt Faustine. Everyone go around and say your name, age, and… one thing you’d bring with you on a deserted island.”  
  
“Okay, well, my name’s Faustine Whitewood, I’m thirty eight, and I would bring a boat, to get off the island.”  
  
“Um, I’m Adrien Agreste, I’m sixteen, and I would bring…” He trailed off, deep in thought.  
  
“Dude, it’s not that deep. Just say something,” Nino interjected after a good ten seconds had gone by.  
  
“Am I allowed to bring a bag with things in it?”  
  
“No.” Marinette leaned back, curious.  
  
“Am I allowed to bring a person? Because if so, Bugaboo--”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“But--”  
  
“No.”  
  
Adrien threw his hands up in either surrender or exasperation.  
  
“Okay. I bring a roll of toilet paper.”  
  
“Smart.” Alya looked up from her phone for the third time that night. “I’m Alya Césaire, I’m sixteen, and I’d bring a book, because at the point that I realize I’m stranded, I will have already made an SOS sign on the beach, and I’ll need something to do while waiting for a dramatic rescue. Which I will, of course, post about on the Ladyblog upon my return to civilization.”  
  
Marinette giggled. Classic Alya.  
  
“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’m sixteen, and I would bring twine.”  
  
“Twine?” Adrien echoed, seemingly forgetting all the excessively complicated plans involving Lucky Charms and lynchpins that would’ve made no sense to anyone else ever. Forgetting that he was asking Marinette what she could possibly do with twine on a deserted island.  
  
Luckily for him, her answer wasn't nearly as convoluted as one might expect.  
  
“Well, it’s the only thing I would need for fishing and construction that I wouldn't already have on the island. For fishing, I’d have my pick of sharp rocks as hooks, but nothing to serve as a fishing line. And I need twine for building a shelter; it’ll help me tie beams together and the like.”  
  
“You all are way overthinking this. I’m Nino Lahiffe, I’m fifteen, and I’d bring a package of water bottles. How do you know there’s clean water on that island? Fishing and books and wiping your butt will only get you so far; you have to be prepared for anything!”  
  
“Well, of course you're right, but who could possibly be prepared for anything with only one thing in the universe?” Alya returned to blogging.  
  
“Wait! I’m changing my item. I take a poncho with me; no weather will take me by surprise!” Adrien seemed quite smug for thinking of that.  
  
“Except scorching heat,” Marinette tutted. She shook her head with mock disappointment.  
  
“Hey, big talk coming from a girl who brought twine onto the magical deserted island. How did we even get on the island anyway?”  
  
“The universe hates you, specifically, and decided you should be washed up on a deserted island.”  
  
“Hmph. With my luck, you're probably right.”  
  
Marinette leaned forward to boop Adrien’s nose, not really caring that Alya made a gagging motion to Nino.  
  
“Now don't do that to yourself.”  
  
“Hey, we should get another game going,” Nino interrupted. “How about we all say our favorite color, our favorite chocolate, and one other thing about ourselves.”  
  
“Okay, why not?” Alya nodded along. “I like purple, my favourite chocolates are the dark and raspberry squares, and I’m a dog person.”  
  
“Ouch,” Adrien fell back in his seat. “Uncalled for.”  
  
“Alya, was it? I’m sure you'll love Scooter and Bumper.” Aunt Faustine kept her eyes on the road as she drove through a neat, small neighborhood Marinette hadn’t caught the name of.  
  
“I’m sure I will, Aunt Faustine.”  
  
“My favourite colour is green, Cadbury eggs are rad, and I always get my friends CD’s and socks for Christmas.” Nino said after a minute of silence  
  
“Wait, like personalized CD’s or--”  
  
“Regular ones.” Nino waved away Adrien’s question dismissively. “I bought pretty much everyone the latest Jagged Stone CD last year.”  
  
“Thanks, I’m glad to know my boyfriend got me the same gift he got everyone else.” Alya had turned off her phone and was now paying full attention to the conversation.  
  
“Wait, babe, I also bought you those chocolates and a new phone case. Remember?”  
  
“Hmmm, fine.” Alya said after inspecting her phone. “You're off the hook. Marinette, it’s your turn.”  
  
“Oh, right! Um, I like pink, Twix bars are really really good, and uh--”  
  
“Are you gonna say anything about how you can toss a full grown man into the Seine?” Adrien twisted around in his seat again, desperate to be a part of the party car.  
  
“I wasn't planni--”  
  
“Or how you once almost killed Chloe for hitting on Adrien a couple months ago” Alya’s eyes sparkled with interest.  
  
“That’s no--”  
  
“Or how a couple of days ago, you--”  
  
“ No. I was going to say that I work in a bakery and I have all of my friends’ favorite pastries memorized. Adrien, you like strawberry danishes; Alya, you usually get a box of fresh croissants to share with your family, and Nino; you always buy the pecan petit fours.”  
  
“Oh. Well that's sweet and entirely not what I expected. But you should know that if I wasn't obligated to feed my family, I would totally run you out of chocolate éclairs.” Alya winked.  
  
“Noted. Adrien, your turn.”  
  
“My favourite colour is blue, those Ferrero Rocher truffles are really good, and I once lost a bet to Nino and had to drink half a bottle of vodka and then watch the Bee Movie without subtitles. It was… an experience.”  
  
“Why did I know nothing of this?” Marinette demanded immediately. “How long ago was this? Were pictures taken? Was anything recorded?”  
  
“No, but all I remember is that Adrien tried to throw the rest of the bottle at the lady who ditched her fiancé for the bee, and he called her a putain. I had to physically restrain him from shutting off the TV, and he started bawling when that one bee lost his stinger and had it replaced with the sandwich pick.” Nino shook his head.  
  
"That was a VERY emotional scene, okay? He almost died!"  
  
“How long ago was this?” Alya repeated.  
  
“Uh, like a month after your birthday?” Nino shrugged in Adrien’s general direction. “Yeah, like a month after Adrien’s birthday. I had said that if he forgot your anniversary, he would have to drink vodka and watch the Bee Movie with me.”  
  
“And Adrien forgot our anniversary,” Marinette recalled. Upon seeing Adrien’s guilty expression (he had apologized profusely the next day. Marinette couldn't stay upset with him, so they had gone out to eat and watched a movie), she added “I’m not upset about that. Honestly, I think that's hilarious.”  
  
Aunt Faustine pulled into another neighborhood, ‘Cherry Creek.’  
  
“So, Adrien and Marinette. You two are dating?”  
  
Somewhat bashfully, Marinette nodded yes. Then she realized that the older woman couldn't see her, so she said “yes.”  
  
“Yeah.” Adrien glanced out the window.  
  
“How long?”  
  
“Mmm. I want to say just over a year now?”  
  
“Yeah, a year and a couple of months.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad it’s working out for you,” Aunt Faustine replied, parking the car. “We’re here.”  
  
Aunt Faustine’s house pressed flat on top of a small hill, only one story. A spacious porch graced the front half of the house, furnished with wicker chairs and a stained glass end table. Windows were abundant and the door had an extra, ratty screen in front, presumably for the prevention of tiny dog escapes.  
  
“I have a guest room and a large pullout couch, who wants what?” Aunt Faustine asked them once all their bags were in the front entryway.  
  
“Adrien and Nino can have the guest room; Marinette and I are fine on the couch.” Alya nudged Marinette in the stomach, and she nodded.  
  
“If you're sure about that, then okay. Boys, the guest room is the second door on the left. Girls, the living room is to your right, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be there in just a minute to set up the couch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to edit this chapter some to accommodate an idea I had for the next one, so sorry about that!


	2. The Fox and the Ladybug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a lot shorter than I thought it was (I swear, it's like four pages on docs)  
> In which Alya and Marinette make a decision and Adrien McDies™

It was not morning at all when Marinette woke--sprawled out on the pullout couch next to Alya--to a tiny dog eagerly covering her face with kisses. Marinette started, lifted the dog (was this Scooter or Bumper? She vaguely remembered Aunt Faustine mentioning two dogs) off of her face, sat up, and blearily looked around at her surroundings. Alya snored next to her, bra discarded across the room. Their suitcases still lay in the entry hall, an enticing aroma of baking goods floated around, and there was dog hair absolutely _everywhere._

Marinette blinked, trying to clear the fog from her eyes. In her periphery, she noticed a small retro TV on the mantle, running a muted news programme. Squinting, still not fully awake, she tried to make sense of the headline (Tikki only translated auditory processes, so English was slow). She could make out the word “raccoon,” although that was the extent of her English knowledge. The screen featured a reporter on scene in a park, gesturing at a middle-aged man being shoved into a police car. From what Marinette could see, he had a nasty bruise beginning to form on his jaw.

Alya spluttered next to her--Marinette hadn’t noticed that Tiny Dog had given up on her and attacked Alya’s ear.

“Goo-oo-ood evening, ladies!” A chipper voice belonging to Aunt Faustine sounded from a nearby room, and then the woman herself appeared bearing a plate piled with fresh steaming pancakes. Marinette, temporarily distracted by the smell of delicious food, turned her attention to the prospect of eating. Her stomach rumbled in agreement.

“Scooter! Leave Alya alone!” Aunt Faustine set the tray on the coffee table and shooed the dog off of the couch. She continued as if never interrupted, “Since everyone woke up so late, I thought I’d make pancakes instead of heading out for a very late breakfast.” Chuckling, she then departed to roust the boys, who were presumably awake.

“Wait, what time is it?”

“Um.” The word was garbled, Alya’s mouth already filled with a pancake. She pulled her phone off the charger and looked at the clock on the lockscreen. “Three?”

“That would be…”

“Eleven at night back home,” Alya confirmed. “Kinda trippy.”

“ _Way_ trippy.”

A loud crash sounded from what was supposedly the boys’ bedroom.

“Adrien’s awake,” Marinette observed. Alya snorted, probably choking on the 27 pancakes in her mouth. “I’d say that to his face, you know.”

“No, I know. Trust me.”

Marinette probably could’ve thought of a snarky reply, but two disheveled boys who would probably rather be deep in a seven year coma came stumbling into the room and Marinette’s thoughts dissipated.

Adrien tripped over Scooter and his face smacked straight into the arm of the couch, which Marinette happened to be leaning on, and both teens cried out in surprise and/or pain.

“Nice,” Nino snickered. Adrien moaned in frustration and didn’t get up. Rather, he just sat there, face in the couch and hidden from all of his problems.

“Dude, are you okay?” Alya poked him.

“I have at least three bruises from the past sixty seconds of the day.” He paused. “Thirty seconds, actually. I’d rather fight Hawkmoth again than be awake.”

“You’d have to be awake to do that, you know,” Nino sighed.

“Don’t you say another word to me.”

“I guess pretty boy isn’t a morning person.” Alya leaned back in her chair, allowing Nino to pass her on his way to the food.

“Let me die.”

Marinette ran her fingers through Adrien’s hair, reaching for a pancake with her other hand.

He seemed to sense the approaching food and lifted his face from the cushion, expectantly staring at Marinette’s hand.

“Oh, get a room,” Alya declared after watching Marinette essentially hand feed her boyfriend.

“We’re in one. You’re just here, too,” Adrien only looked at Alya for a moment before deciding to relieve his back and climb onto the sofa arm.

Aunt Faustine swooped back into the room with a bowl of sliced fruit and sat down on the armchair across from Marinette, who had been preoccupied watching Adrien clamber around.

“So, did Gabriel tell any of you the plan for these two weeks?”

At four simultaneous “no”’s, Aunt Faustine sighed.

“Gabriel, your father,” she gestured vaguely at Adrien, “sent me a very detailed roster indicating exactly what we should be doing every single day of this trip, down to the minute. Because I am not Gabriel, we will not be following this schedule.”

That sentence piqued the group’s interest.

“My brother is ridiculous if he genuinely believes I’m going to enable him in his freakish control of his child’s and other children’s lives. I always knew Gabriel had a stick up his ass--” (Adrien paled) “--but honestly, who details schedules by the _minute?_ ”

“My father,” Adrien mumbled. Alya shot him a pitying glance, and Aunt Faustine just looked away awkwardly.

“Anyways, I intend to hold a democracy in this house. Everything we do as a group will be decided by majority vote, and we will put this into practice immediately. What would you four like to do for the rest of the day?”

They all exchanged nervous looks.

“I want to get into this immediately. No time to waste, right?”

“Well, I think we should take it easy today. We _do_ have two weeks, after all.”

“Two weeks is barely any time at all! I want to see as much of this place as I can. America, land of the free and home of the brave?”

“I’m sure it’s lit, but honestly the whole trip has got everyone exhausted. I second Marinette, we should take the rest of the day to do something more lowkey.”

Three sets of eyes turned upon Adrien, who seemed to itch with impatience.

“I kinda want to just stay in today. Sorry, Alya.”

She huffed with annoyance. Aunt Faustine gave her a sympathetic glance before addressing the rest of the group, “I can run to Redbox right now, actually, and text you the selection when I get there. Everyone write your numbers down while I find my purse.”

She stood and left the room, leaving the teenagers to fumble around for a pen and write down phone numbers on a notepad sitting on the coffee table. Alya didn't seem too upset about the verdict, which relieved Marinette's concerns. The last thing anyone wanted was an argument on Day One.

“Okay, I’m not going to be gone more than an hour, at the very most. Bumper is asleep on my bed, Scooter is somewhere around here. There’s food in the fridge, your bags are still in the hall, and you can text me if you need anything. Okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” Adrien fiddled with his belt loop. “We’ll be fine.” A nervous smile visibly alleviated Aunt Faustine, and so she departed.

 

The four teenagers huddled on the largest couch in the living room, eyes glued to the television currently displaying live footage of a drug bust downtown. A hooded figure flitted around the alleyway, keeping to the shadows but leaping across the open roofs every now and again. They seemed to be attempting to corner a heavyset, bald man with a briefcase.

“...And if you watch closely, you can see our Procyon in hot pursuit of Mikael, with him just barely out of reach.”

“Procyon?” Adrien squinted at the TV. “Isn’t that the raccoon genus?”

The figure dropped to the ground, and Marinette could make out what appeared to be an open parasol in the raccoon superhero’s hands (paws?).

A swift whack to the head from Procyon and the drug lord was out like a like, crumpled to his knees.

“Geez, American superheroes must deal with this crud all the time,” Alya remarked. “I’m sure glad most of our problems are cats stuck in trees.”

“That was ONE time.”

“Yeah, but old Mme. Florence looked ready to faint, she loved you so much.”

“And Procyon turns Mikael over to the police. He should be thankful she’s turned over a new leaf, in my opinion. Back to you, Robert.”

Nino muted the television. “Well, we know one thing for certain.”

“Spill.”

“America has their own set of Miraculous, duh!”

 

* * *

 

 

“It makes sense. I think Procyon, at least, resides here.” Marinette paced the living room floor, followed closely by Bumper, Aunt Faustine’s St. Bernard, who had awoken to the sounds of conversation. Adrien flicked through the translated copy of Master Fu’s book that Nino carried everywhere, searching for any sort of clue about other sets of Miraculous. Nino opened and closed the Miraculous box absently, as if waiting for an explanation to pop out. All of them tried not to stare at the unused butterfly and peacock Miraculous.

“It makes no sense. There’s nothing in here that even _sort of_ mentions other sets!”

“It’s ridiculous to just assume that they have Miraculous, anyway. I bet you anything she just got her powers from a radioactive raccoon. Besides, I’ve heard nothing of other American superheroes, Miraculous or not.”

“Oh, so they’re a she now?”

“That tiny-ass raccoon was _not_ a dude. She was too slick.”

“Rude.” Adrien shut the book with a crisp thud. “I’m pretty slick.”

Marinette snorted.

“Miladybug,” she said pointedly.

“Not my finest moment.”

“Do you have a finest moment? Don’t answer that,” she added quickly, seeing the smugness that appeared on Adrien’s face.

“Anyways, there’s an easy way to find out if she’s really a Miraculous holder.” Marinette could practically see the gears turning behind Alya’s eyes.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Nino sighed. “What are you thinking.”

“Well, it’s obvious isn’t it? We have to transform and hang out in some conspicuous public place. When she shows up, we can ask her about the Miraculous. If she doesn’t show up, we can think of something else.”

“That’s… not a bad plan. But we can’t all go.” Marinette bit her lip.

“Well, of course not.”

“So we need to vote on who goes and who stays.”

“Are we doing this tonight?”

“Sure. “

“Well, I’m tired,” Adrien declared. “I’m gonna stay here and sleep.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Well, you know I’d rather actually die than miss this scoop, so count me in,” Alya declared, excitement evident in her bouncing leg and sparkling eyes.

“Eh, I’m kinda with Adrien on this one. It’s been a long trip. Also, we get enough sleep-deprivation at home; vacation time means no superheroing!”

“Right on, bro.” Adrien kicked the footrest up and beckoned for Bumper to come join him on the armchair.

“So, where can we just chill out in costume? Somewhere public, like I said earlier, but is there a park around here? A 24/7 cafe?”

Marinette pulled up Google Maps on her phone. “There’s a Central Park Recreation Center about halfway between here and the airport, about twenty minutes by car.”

“So, thirty minutes as the ladybug flies?”

“Mmm, I guess. We have to account for unfamiliar terrain.”

“That’s true. Also, I don’t have a magical yoyo to swing around the city.”

“As if I’d leave you behind.”

“Okay, I think should definitely leave before midnight, maybe eleven. Transform before we leave, explore the park a bit, and then do something to attract Procyon.” Alya tapped her phone on her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe make noise? Cause a scene?”

“I think a fox and ladybug superhero wandering a public park at midnight should be enough to get anyone’s attention.”

“Tonight, then?”

“Tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Central Park Recreation Center does exist, and yes, it is twenty minutes from the DIA  
> Again, special thanks to la-chatonne-douce for beta reading!


	3. Raccoon Tracking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is peak Alya; I will never be able to write her this well ever again

Midnight had come and gone.

Volpina held her flute like a bo staff and whacked a nearby tree methodically; the longer the night dragged on, the more her movements became agitated and irregular. Any sense of rhythm was lost entirely after a good ten minutes.

After a good solid _crack_ on the bark, she threw the flute into the fountain Ladybug was perched on, squinting at the skyline. Neither of them had spoken for the past half an hour.

“Mari, what are you going to do when we find Procyon?” Volpina sat down on the edge of the fountain. Ladybug didn’t even twitch--didn’t take her eyes off of the dark city.

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, we’re not going to hurt her. It’s not like we’re supervillains with a vendetta.”

“No, of course not.”

“Are you… okay? You seem pretty out of it.”

Ladybug sighed, finally turning her head to look at Volpina--Alya--and held her gaze for a moment.

“I don’t know what this means for us.”

“...what _what_ means, exactly?”

“I don’t know… any of it? All of it?  _We’re not the only Miraculous holders, Alya!_ Do you realize what this could've meant to us just a few months ago? ‘Hey guys, I know you live on another continent, but we sure could use your help taking down a _rogue Miraculous holder who wants to kill us_! Sorry if that’s too much to ask!’” Ladybug leapt down, red spotted feet splashing in the lowest basin of the fountain. “I want to be angry. I want to be so, so angry. But I’m not. I’m just…” She kicked the water, collecting her thoughts. Silence stretched over the pair for a minute before Ladybug continued, voice shaking. “For the first time since I got these earrings, there’s nobody telling me what to do next. There’s no goal in sight, there’s no Lucky Charm to fix everything, there’s no ladybug vision to tell me what I need to do; it’s just me. And I’m scared, Alya--I’m so, so scared.”

Volpina hauled herself to her feet.

“Look, girl. It’s okay. We beat Hawkmoth--it sucked, but we beat him.” Volpina touched Ladybug’s cheek, wiping away the tears that had collected. “And if we can beat Hawkmoth, we can _certainly_ handle whatever this new country can throw at us, be it superheroes, terrible fast food, or the homeland of tourists.”

“We live in Paris,” Ladybug pointed out. “Tourist central.”

“Very true.” Volpina hummed. “Do you think they have Speed Rabbit here?”

 

* * *

 

Three in the morning lurked around the corner, Volpina was passed out on the park bench, and Ladybug was having trouble keeping herself awake. She had resumed her vigil on the fountain top, keeping a close eye on the city buildings for any movement whatsoever.

“Do you think we’ll find her?” Ladybug said, barely audible and mostly to herself. When no reply immediately came, she sighed, and then started when Volpina said, “I hope so.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't.”

“God, you're almost as bad as Adrien.”

“Rude. I’m nowhere _near_ as bad as he is.”

“Mmm.” Ladybug shifted her weight; her left leg was starting to cramp.

“‘I’m Adrien and anytime I’m away from Marinette for more than six seconds, I die instantly.’” Volpina dramatically posed, hand over her heart and leg slung over the back of the bench.

“I mean, can you blame him? I’m the only one that seems to feed him.”

“Oh, we all know what you feed him,” Volpina’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively. Ladybug chose to dodge the thought and instead pressed her, “Where do you think the other Miraculous holders are?”

“Huh?”

“Procyon holds a raccoon, right? There has to be others; ours came in a set of seven.”

“Oh. _Oh.”_ The vixen struggled back into a sitting position. “Um, I don't really know. We haven't seen other signs of them being here.”

“Who would've guessed the one place we visit in America turns out to be Miraculous City?”

Volpina snorted. “Pretty wild.”

“Not even Hawkmoth would've predicted this.”

Silence.

“Do you think Master Fu knew?”

“What?”

“Do you think Master Fu knew about the other Miraculous sets?” Volpina tapped her flute. “If he did, why wouldn't he have told us?”

Ladybug sighed. “Master Fu knew a lot of things he never shared. Most of the time I wish he was still around, just to ask him why this, why that.” She paused. “But then, of course, that would be too easy.”

“And then Nino wouldn't have Wayzz,” Volpina said.

“And then Nino wouldn't have Wayzz,” Ladybug agreed.

Volpina hesitated. “We could ask him.”

“Who?”

“Wayzz! Find out what Master Fu told him, what he knows!”

“What makes you think Wayzz knows about this?” Ladybug gestured vaguely to everywhere. “And even if he does, will he tell us?”

“No harm in finding out,” Volpina leapt to her feet, eager to race back home and shake the turtle kwami awake. Ladybug snatched her tail before Volpina could bounce away.

“Whoa, ki--fox,” Ladybug flushed at her near-mistake. “It’s almost four in the morning. We can interrogate him _tomorrow,_ when we’ve caught up on _sleep._ ”

“Do you grab everyone by the tail?” Volpina huffed, clutching her tail.

Ladybug shrugged. “Usually just Adrien, but I felt it was appropriate for this situation.”

Volpina grinned. “Bet he likes it.”

Ladybug didn’t have time to reply before her companion dashed off, daring her to follow. With a sigh, Ladybug threw her yoyo and soared into the early morning sky with her heart contented, a next move in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to la-chatonne-douce for beta reading, etc.  
> Sorry this chapter is so short! It's just filler before the thick plottens :)  
> Love y'all so much for all the nice comments!  
> (Speed Rabbit is a pizza chain based in France)


	4. Meep Meep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Procyon, Appaloosa, and Roadrunner have arrived and are ready to kick ass!  
> Well, probably.

Ladybug swung in through the open guest room window, detransformed, stumbled past the sleeping boys, and tripped into bed in the living room.

All-nighters were a lot more difficult than she remembered.

She felt Alya collapse next to her--she belatedly wondered if her companion had remembered to shut the window behind her--and sigh.

“You okay?” Marinette yawned. Alya just groaned into her pillow.

“Why did I let you convince me to stay out until 4 am?” She said, face in her pillow.

“Actually, if I recall, it was closer to the other way around.”

“And we didn’t even find Procyon.”

“Yep. Good night.”

 

The two girls awoke sometime after noon, Marinette’s phone alight with unread text messages.

 

 _(12:01)_ **_minou <3: _ ** _i told aunt faustine that the time change was still messing with you guys_

 _(12:02)_ **_minou <3: _ ** _also did u find anything about procyon_

 _(12:03)_ **_minou <3: _ ** _i love u_

 _(12:04)_ **_minou <3: _ ** _babe_

 _(12:04)_ **_minou <3: _ ** _sweetie_

 _(12:04)_ **_minou <3: _ ** _honey_

 _(12:05)_ **_minou <3: _ ** _love_

 _(12:16)_ **_minou <3: _ ** _??? ?_

 _(12:17)_ **_minou <3: _ ** _ok youve been sleeping for 8 hours now there is no excuse_

_(12:30) [MISSED CALL FROM: minou <3] _

_(12:33)_ **_minou <3: _ ** _wake up i have a secret to tell you also my phone’s dying_

 

 _(12:01)_ **_aunt faustine:_ ** _I’m taking the boys out to the local library; Nino insisted. Do you want anything while we are out? We will bring home lunch._

 

 _(12:34)_ **_mixtape:_ ** _adrien’s phone died but he told me to tell you he loves you and also to text me if you need anything_

 

“God, Adrien,” Marinette said aloud upon scrolling her inbox. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” She quickly texted Aunt Faustine back that no, they did not need anything as far as she knew.

“But you love me,” she could practically hear him say. And she agreed.

“What did Adrien do?” Alya said, rolling over in the tangle of blankets that they shared. Marinette shook her head.

“He’s being Adrien.”

“Kill him.”

“I’d die.”

“Of course you would.” Alya stretched and unplugged her phone. “Ugh. Four texts from Nino.”

“Mmm.” Marinette glanced at the.. one, two… ten texts from Adrien. “That’s rough, buddy.”

“Don’t do this to me. It’s too early.”

“Come on.” Marinette stood, stretched, and then held her hands out to Alya. “Let’s go eat.”

“If you insist.” Alya took Marinette’s hands and rolled off the couch. “What’s there to eat?”

“If all else fails, I can make something.”

“Do you think Aunt Faustine has cookies?” Tikki chirped from the couch. She and Trixx had pretty much died when they got back in last night.

“Or blueberries?” Trixx stretched.

“We’ll make sure you two get to eat something. Though it might not be cookies,” Marinette added to a disappointed-looking Tikki.

Tikki sighed, but seemed to accept it and continue, “Well, what are we waiting for?”

 

Aunt Faustine kept a very generously stocked kitchen. Either that, or she had gone grocery shopping before she had a horde of hungry teenagers under her roof.

 _Probably the latter,_ Marinette reflected as she set out a plate of blueberries and warmed pancakes. Now, for herself.

“Alya, what do you feel like eating?”

“I’d kill a man for some hot cocoa.” Alya scrolled Pinterest on her phone, saving art references.

“Unfortunate,” Marinette said.

“Unfortunate, indeed.”

“Well, since we have no hot cocoa, do you want the probably-three-hours-old coffee in the pot?”

“Hit me up.”

“Will you turn on the TV? I want to see if there’s more news about Procyon.”

“Sure thing, girl.” Alya got up from her barstool and turned on the news in the living room; right now they were on the weather, but Marinette was sure that sooner or later, Procyon would be on that screen.

Not for the first time, Marinette understood Alya’s deep, insatiable curiosity; she ached to know who wore the raccoon Miraculous. Badly.

 _It’s not like it would be anyone you know,_ she chided herself, pouring two mugs of coffee. While there was truth in the thought, it did nothing.

“Aunt Faustine has like, three flavors of cream,” she said to Alya, who had sat back down and switched from Pinterest to Tumblr.

“Which ones?”

“Um…” Marinette opened the fridge, squinting. “Uh, I think that one’s Irish cream, probably; it looks like the one Adrien uses. Are they still on the weather?”

“Give me that one, then. Yea--wait, no. Look.”

Marinette hurried over and saw a horrific scene unfold on the old screen.

Procyon hurtled around the Central Park, furiously dodging a spray of bullets from a menacing man with a large gun.

Marinette’s eyes widened. Guns were a rarity hardly dealt with in Paris, and she wasn’t sure how different it was here. Regardless, she was going to be on scene before Procyon finished up there.

“Tikki, spots on!”

 

Silence.

A heartbeat. Her own, perhaps?

Static.

Light tread on pavement, deafening to her ears.

Ladybug lived for the rush of adrenaline that a real fight provided in full. The heart-stopping moment when a weapon missed her by a hair, the lightning-like reflexes that swept enemies to their feet in split-seconds, the crack of her yoyo snapping the akumatized object in half.

The last part didn’t apply, of course. No akumas in America, just shitty people.

She swung into the park, not unlike the bullets Procyon was currently deflecting with her parasol Ladybug didn’t even know opened.

“Who are _you?_ ” the raccoon snarled, ducking behind the very same fountain Ladybug had sat on for more than a few hours the night before.

“A friend,” Ladybug dodged the spray of marble from a bullet chipping. Just at that moment, Chat Noir appeared on Procyon’s other side.

“You, I don’t recognize,” she said, squinting. “Bug lady I saw in the park last night, but she was with some carrot superhero.”

“I’m _Ladybug,_ and my friend is Volpina, although _this_ is Chat Noir.”

“So, fox?” Procyon ducked under the crossfire. “Look, I’d love to chat with you, but I have to focus on these guys.”

“Let us help.” Chat peeked over the basin at the guys. “There’s at least four of them.”

“Five, _minou._ ”

“Look, I don’t need your help.” Procyon bolted across the open pavilion, skittered around the bench, and tackled one dude who had been sheltering behind it.

Ladybug nodded at Chat, and the two spun into action with the sort of synchronicity that comes with deep, complete trust and cold, hard experience.

“This isn’t what we usually deal with,” Chat remarked, cataclysming a gun and watching it crumble to ashes in his fingers. Ladybug could only grunt in agreement, kicking another guy in the knees.

“Well, when you two learn how to multitask, come find me.” Procyon tossed another gun--the large one Ladybug had seen on the news earlier--onto the ground, three men tied to the bench behind her.

“How--”

“In the meantime, I need you two to follow me.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir exchanged a glance before racing after the raccoon that disappeared into the city.

 

* * *

 

 

Procyon seemed to know her city well, which made sense. She led them through back alleys, across rooftops, and then finally to a boarded-up building on the back end of downtown. It had a remarkably well-kept rooftop garden.

“Um, my transformation’s about to drop,” Chat said, somewhat panickingly. His ring blooped, indicating he only had a minute left.

“You’ll be fine; the base is just through here. I’m breaking protocol to take you guys here, but I don’t know what else to do, so you're going to sit here where I can watch you. Also, I’m calling for backup.” She kicked open a trapdoor under the gravel.

Ladybug didn’t know what to make of Procyon. Now that they finally had a moment to breathe, she could really look at the short girl who just showed the two of them up in a pretty intense fight. Procyon was short, about the same height as Myléne, and just as chubby. Her eyes looked like melted honey without the warmth. Instead, her gaze was cold, calculating. _Ruthless,_ Ladybug realized with a shudder, and dismissed the thought quickly. Procyon’s skin, from what Ladybug could see, was dark, like ebony, her hair was curly and looked soft, and her face was rounded.

What caught Ladybug’s attention the most, besides her physical appearance, was the confidence and authority in her eyes. Like she knew she could kick Ladybug and Chat Noir off of the roof and she wanted _them_ to know it, too.

So instead of voicing any of these thoughts, Ladybug dropped down the hole in the roof, into whatever lay next.

 

“Why don’t we have a setup like this?” Adrien whined after seeing the (pretty _sick_ ) hideout Procyon had given them a quick tour of. “We just kinda meet up wherever. We barely have a group chat.”

“I’ve lived here for around two years now, but it’s the team hideout. I just sort of… watch over it. Y’know, ‘cause I live here and all.”

“Sweet,” Adrien trailed his fingers on the pool table, apparently in awe. “Is this mahogany?”

“Phoebe and Amber usually play pool in here, although if Damien’s around, he beats them both at it. It’s pretty fun to watch.”

“Who are those people?” Ladybug peeked through an open doorway which appeared to open into a small bunk room.

“Oh, um… I-I should probably let Amber explain…”

“That’s okay.” Ladybug shut the door to the bedroom. “Um, do you mind if I detransform? I have to text my friend.”

“Go ahead, nobody really minds. Oh, uh, signal down here sucks, but the WiFi password is knifewieldingtentacle007.”

Ladybug let her transformation drop in the obligatory swirl of pink light.

 _No texts from Alya,_ Marinette thought with a frown, after logging into the WiFi network (the name of which was probably also something stupid).

“You wouldn’t happen to have a Samsung charger, would you?” Adrien held up his phone somewhat sheepishly. Procyon sighed.

“In the kitchen, there’s a whole charging station. Here, I’ll show you. Um, Ladybug?”

“Hmm?”

“Just… don’t go digging around. I’d hate for you to stumble on one of Ale’s or Raùl’s projects.”

“I’ll be careful,” Marinette promised. “I’m probably not going to dig up every secret on the first day.”

After Procyon and Adrien had walked off, Marinette had more time to absorb her surroundings. The actual above-ground building really was abandoned--the team base was a multi-layered basement that coiled under the groaning ruins of a foreclosed apartment building. And it didn’t hurt that the rooftop garden provided a lot of fresh foods, which Marinette assumed Procyon lived off of.

So there was a supposed kitchen, a rec room Marinette had already seen, and a bunk room. What else lurked in Team America’s halls?

Marinette had little time to find out before a loud knocking startled her; a figure she didn’t recognize dropped from the chute the three of them had entered through. The mystery figure straightened up, and Marinette could see alarm flash through the stranger’s eyes.

“Jasmine?” She shouted, not taking her eyes off of Marinette. Procyon reappeared at that moment.

“Amber? Oh thank god,” Procyon--Jasmine--exclaimed, sighing in relief.

“Ale’s gonna kill you,” Amber warned. Jasmine shuffled her feet.

“I didn’t--I didn’t know what to do. The random Miraculous holders showed up in the park last night, and I was gonna call you, but I wanted to see what they would do first, and then these two showed up to _help_ today, and I just…”

“Panicked,” Amber said curtly. Despite her tone, her face softened. “Don’t worry. You did fine. You two,” Amber rounded on Marinette and Adrien, eyes flashing.

“I’m Ladybug, this is Chat Noir,” Marinette said quickly.

“Who are you? Where are you from?”

“Well, uh..”

“I’m Adrien Agreste; Marinette Dupain-Cheng. We live in Paris, but we’re here for vacation with my aunt.”

Amber squinted. “Bad spot for a vacation.”

Now that Marinette’s initial anxiety had subsided, she had a chance to really examine their interrogator. Her hair was long and dark brown, curling around her waist. Two animal ears poked out of the top-- _God, I hope Adrien doesn’t see that_ \--and her spotty mask covered her face like a bandana. A leather corded belt wrapped snugly around her hips, a crop clung to its holster, and her leggings were splashed with white. Her eyes were dark brown--dark enough that Marinette almost couldn’t tell where her iris ended and her pupil began.

“A… horse?” Marinette asked. The hoof boots did give it away, if only a little bit.

“Appaloosa. You’ve already met Procyon, my protegé.” Despite her hostility, there was a hint of pride in her voice

“I _was_ her protegé, two years ago.” Jasmine nudged Amber with her elbow playfully.

“So, a Ladybug superhero? Doesn’t seem that intimidating.”

“You’d be surprised,” Adrien mumbled. Marinette spared him her glare and instead only said, “I’ve defended Paris for a year now, with his help. I’d say we’re decent.”

“Only a year?” Amber shifted her weight. “How old are you? Who else is on your Miraculous team?”

“Um, sixteen, and with us here we have Volpina and Jade Turtle. Back in Paris there’s still Queen Bee.”

“Queen Bee,” Amber repeated. “God, who comes up with your names?”

Marinette almost felt like a spotlight was being shined in her eyes, her hands tied to the back of a metal chair, and some case file open on the cold table in front of her. “I’d have to guess she did.”

Amber snorted. “Okay, look. You guys aren’t here to mess things up for us, but since _I_ ” she shot a glance at Jasmine, “don’t know what to do with you either, I’m calling Ale.”

“Wait! Let’s, um, let’s not bother Ale. She’s probably super busy.” Jasmine scuffled her feet on the ground.

Amber hesitated. “You know she’d want to know about this.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t want her to think I can’t do my job.”

Amber set her hand on the raccoon’s shoulder.

“ _I_ gave you your Miraculous, and _I_ think you did fine. If there aren’t any objections,” she said pointedly, in a tone that indicated that there weren’t any, “I’m calling Ale.”

Jasmine bit her lip. “Okay.”

“Um, silly question.” Marinette raised her hand. “Who’s Ale?”

“Someone you do _not_ want to meet right now. She _hates_ running here, and she might just suplex you into the sun if she doesn’t feel like dealing with you.”

Marinette lowered her hand. “Of course. Like I said--silly question.” She scratched the back of her neck awkwardly.

“Do we have to sit here the whole time?” Adrien blurted out. “My aunt’s going to start wondering why my bathroom break is taking forever.”

“Yes. Protocol.”

Adrien groaned. Marinette checked her phone for texts again.

 

 _(1:46)_ **_aunt faustine:_ ** _Alya says you two ran out for extra toiletries?_

 

Marinette could kiss Alya, and maybe would if her boyfriend wasn’t standing next to her. A quick _yes, I ran out of pads_ was a good enough response, she decided, and put her phone away. Amber pushed past the three teenagers crowded in the hallway.

“For that matter, I hate running here too. What do we have to eat?”

“Um, I got groceries today, actually, but--”

“Great.” Amber’s transformation disappeared in a flash of caramel-colored light, and the horse superheroine was replaced by an ordinary-looking teenager--minus the horse kwami yawning on her shoulder. Her hair remained the same, although she now wore a cropped halter top, jeans, and a pair of chunky heels. “What?” She said defensively, seeing Marinette and Adrien staring at the blatant disregard for a dual-identity. “I’m tired, and Ale should be here within the hour. C’mon, Keeli.”

 _Keeli,_ Marinette mouthed to Adrien.

“That’s adorable,” Adrien whispered back.

“Well, since I seem to be the ugly duckling today--” Procyon’s transformation also dematerialized, revealing an oversized gray sweater and baggy jeans. Her hair sprung out of whatever had been holding it and fell in tight curls around her face, reaching down to about her shoulders. “Have you two eaten yet?”

Marinette nodded yes, but Adrien’s stomach grumbled.

“Not since around nine this morning,” he admitted. Jasmine groaned.

“You two are gonna eat all my food,” she complained.

“You bet,” Amber called out from presumably the kitchen. “Do I really have to go all the way back up to get fresh carrots?”

“There’s some to your left, on the counter,” Jasmine yelled back.

“Oh. I see.”

“You two might as well make yourselves comfortable; I’m gonna go check on Amber. Um, if you want anything to eat, just check the labels. Sometimes Amber and Phoebe stash food here, but they write their names on stuff.” Jasmine scurried off.

Marinette pointed to the lounge room. “I saw a nice couch in there earlier.”

“Let’s go sit on it, then.”

 

Amber and Jasmine joined them after a moment, and the four struck up a somewhat awkward conversation.

“So, who all is on your team?”

“I’m probably not supposed to tell you until Ale gets here.”

“Oh. Is Ale in charge, then?”

“Nah, nobody’s really in charge, but she and Raùl are sort of the lucky pair, you know? We tend to listen to them the most, although if Damien’s here it gets a little tricker. Ale usually calls the shots, though.”

“Okay, so who are Raùl and Damien?”

Amber and Jasmine looked at each other.

“Screw it, I’m the guardian holder. Raùl and Ale are Coyote and Roadrunner, Damien is Môswa, Charles is Nanuq, and my girlfriend Phoebe is Tatanka, who,” Amber checked her watch, “is presumably also on her way. Am I forgetting anybody?”

“Nope, you’ve just about covered it.”

“So that’s…” Marinette counted on her fingers. “Seven Miraculous holders.” She glanced at Adrien. “Same as us.”

“Wait, you only listed five earlier. Who are the other two?”

“Well, our friend Nino--Jade Turtle--is the Miraculous keeper, or guardian as you said earlier. He hasn’t chosen anyone for the Butterfly or Peacock yet.”

Amber snorted. Everytime she did, Marinette was faintly reminded of a horse nickering.

“God, I remember when I had to deal with that garbage.” She barked a short laugh. “Ironically, that was _exactly_ how I chose Jasmine.”

Since Marinette and Adrien didn’t get the joke, poor babies, Amber leaned back in her chair.

“When I first got Keeli a couple of years ago, I barely knew what a Miraculous was, and I didn’t want anything to do with them.” She tapped her belt. “But my mom had been the previous Appaloosa, and Appaloosa is always the guardian holder. So I sucked it up and went on a couple of trips that year, traveling everywhere to find the perfect holders for Miraculous that I didn’t know anything about.

“Nanuq was the first one I picked; I had gone on a cruise to Alaska and he sort of saved me from drowning--long story,” she said to Marinette and Adrien’s sudden spark of interest. “Anyways, I picked Nanuq first, and I had my heart set on Procyon next. And raccoons like garbage, right? So I thought to myself--don’t laugh--I thought, ‘what better way to pick a garbage superhero than to throw the Miraculous in a dumpster?’”

“She’s lucky I found it and not some curb-picker who would’ve sold it,” Jasmine giggled, although her expression turned more somber after a minute. “I, ah, used to be a curb-picker myself, although I guess some sentimentality wouldn’t let me toss it. So I put it on, and then Naluu showed up, and…” She reached into her sweater and produced a tarnished silver locket. “I met Amber a few days after I found this, and we built the team base together.”

“Hold up,” Adrien held his hands in a T. “You _built_ this place?”

“With Charles at the time, yeah. And it didn’t hurt that Raùl turned out to be a pretty handy guy.” Amber drained her cup of cider.

“We did have to hire contractors for plumbing and electricity and gas, and the furniture we either bought online or refurbished from curbs. But yeah, it’s pretty cool.” Jasmine grinned.

A loud crash came from the entryway, and Amber shot to her feet.

“Ale’s here,” she said, alarmed.

“Jasmine? Amber?”

“We’re in here, Ale. Lounge.” Jasmine called. Marinette tried not to seem frightened as she heard the mysterious Roadrunner approach, although with every step in the hall she shrank a little further into the couch cushions. Adrien clutched Marinette’s hand all the harder, trying his best to seem reassuring but failing.

A mysterious figure, for the second time that day, strode into the room. She held a sense of purpose, finality; it felt like Marinette was beholding a judge, jury, and executioner. The stranger surveyed the room, taking in the sight of Marinette and Adrien practically _quailing_ on the couch and Jasmine tensely sitting in the armchair--Amber was the only one who seemed at ease.

“Well, well,” The figure--presumably Roadrunner--had a voice like a gavel, her tone carrying the finality of life and death. “You called me for _this_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFF HANGER CLIFF HANGER CLIFF HANGER CLIFF HANGER  
> Knife Wielding Tentacle: http://outaspaceman.tumblr.com/post/133351767086/ive-invented-the-knife-wielding-tentacle  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-v80a15ScM  
> Sorry, I figured the american team would get such a kick out of the knife wielding tentacle :P  
> thanks to la-chatonne-douce, she was a huge help with this chapter!


End file.
